Always
by The Dark Enchantress Ruhi
Summary: Three instances in which Severus inspects how Lily and Dumbledore control his life. Part 11 of the Harry Potter One Shots Series.


_**Written for The International Wizarding Schools Championship.**_

**Round : Round 6, Fifty Shades of the Dark Arts**

**School : Hogwarts School Of Witchcraft and Wizardry**

**Year : Year 3**

**Theme : Imperio**

**Prompts : 3. Funeral (Event) [Main]**

**4\. The Cloak of Invisibility, not being used by Harry. (Object) [Additional]**

**Word Count : 1544**

* * *

"_I thought … you were going … to keep her … safe"_

"_She and James put her faith in the wrong person," said Dumbledore. "Rather like you, Severus. Weren't you hoping that Lord Voldemort would spare her?" he paused. "Her boy survives."_

_Snape's head gave a tiny involuntary jerk._

"_Her son lives. He has her eyes, precisely her eyes. You remember the shape and colour of Lily Evans's eyes, I am sure?"_

"_DON'T!" Snape bellowed. "Gone … Dead …"_

"_Is this remorse, Severus?"_

"_I wish … I wish I were dead …"_

"_And what use would that be to anyone?" said Dumbledore coldly. "If you loved Lily Evans, if you truly loved her, then your way forward is clear." _

* * *

**I.**

Severus stood silently in the corner, completely still, not even daring to breathe as he looked onto the service. He was hidden under an invisibility cloak given to him by Dumbledore so that he could give his last respects to Lily. Lily, who was now dead. He swallowed the lump in his throat with difficulty. Lily and James lied in two separate caskets lying beside one another, closed off to the world around them which mourned for them, which thanked them, which came and blessed them. The weather was cool and calm, slight autumn breeze blowing through the village, the sun shining warmly, but not enough to cause discomfort. It was the kind of weather that Lily used to love, but today it felt _wrong. _There was a soft, almost comforting music coming from somewhere, but he wished it would stop. Lily was dead. The world had lost an amazing witch. Why wasn't it wallowing in grief like he was? Why hadn't it lost its colour? _Why_ was everything so normal when _everything_ had been turned upside-down?

Severus couldn't answer any of this—he could barely think about anything but the pain, the grief, the regret. He was the reason his beloved was dead, that much he was certain of. It was a burden he would carry until his last moment, and even after that, if it were possible. He watched silently as witches and wizards came one after another to pay their respects (that Lily's own sister who, much to his outrage, had been entrusted with caring for Lily's child was nowhere to be seen did not go unnoticed).

Dumbledore was standing beside the caskets to receive the well-wishers along with Lupin. These were the ones closest to the two who had passed over. He had thought Black would be there, but that dirtbag scum had been working for the Dark Lord all along and then he had tried to kill Pettigrew. Black had since been deported to Azkaban but Severus knew that if he hadn't been he would have killed him with his bare hands. Anger bubbled inside him like bile, at everyone—Black, Dumbledore, himself.

That he was not yet in Azkaban was due to Dumbledore. If he was being completely honest he owed more than a little to Dumbledore—his job, his bail, even this chance to be able to attend the funeral—but he didn't feel grateful to him at all. Severus knew that he had sealed his fate the moment he had gone to Dumbledore to ask for help, but he resented it. His life had revolved around Lily from the moment he had found out that the Dark Lord was going to target her child due to that accursed prophecy, and in turn, it had been spun around on Dumbledore's fingertips. He had hated doing it. He was a pawn, he knew, but he had loved Lily enough to do whatever it took to save her. Even now, when she was … gone, he loved her enough to keep doing as instructed, waiting for her child to come back, and waiting for her murderer to come after him.

* * *

"You _must kill me."_

"_Would you like me to do it now," Snape asked, his voice heavy with irony. "Or would you like a few moments to compose an epitaph?"_

"_Oh, not quite yet. I daresay the moment will present itself in due course. Given what has happened tonight, we can be sure that it'll within a year."_

"_If you don't mind dying why not let Draco do it?_

"_The boy's soul is not yet so damaged. I would not have it ripped apart on my_

_account."_

"_And my soul, Dumbledore? Mine?" _

* * *

**II.**

Snape looked on at the ceremony from under an invisibility cloak wrapped around him. He was in the castle instead of outside with the rest of the attendees to avoid being caught at all costs. He was not welcome in the funeral, obviously. He had killed the wizard whose funeral was being held, and there had been witnesses. Lily's boy had been one of them. The funeral had even more attendees than Lily and Potter's funeral had had. He could see Fudge and Scrimgeour up front, too. The staff, the students, their parents, representatives from the ministry were all present to pay their last respects to Albus Dumbledore, no matter how much they had resented him.

This funeral was on a perfect day too. Severus wondered briefly why funerals were always on such beautiful days. He didn't feel as grief-stricken as he should have felt at the passing of his… what _was_ Dumbledore for him? Employer? Leader? Mentor? He had never in his life felt any emotion for the man. He had sought help from him because he had wanted to protect Lily, and had vowed to do whatever it took to save her and then her son. And it was this debt he had been paying to Dumbledore ever since, and will keep on paying until either he himself or the Dark Lord died.

He paused his musings for a moment when he heard a strange mystical sound. The merpeople were singing for Dumbledore in their tongue. They were, among with many others truly sorry to see Dumbledore go. But was he? He didn't know. Dumbledore was essential to the cause, essential in defeating the Dark Lord but other than that … What did he feel? Gratefulness, yes. Remorse, to an extent. But also now resentment. Dumbledore had misled him all this while, used him. Still, he had left him with a plan and some vague instructions. He would have to act at his own discretion now. The idea of not having to follow someone's orders, even if still within a boundary, felt surreal now.

* * *

"_So the boy … the boy must die?" asked Snape calmly._

"_And Voldemort himself must do it, Severus."_

"_I thought … all these years … that we were protecting him for her. For Lily."_

"_We have protected him because it has been essential to teachhim, to raise him, to let him try his strength. Meanwhile the connection between them grows stronger, a parasitic growth: sometimes I have thought he suspects it himself. If I know him, he will have arranged matters so that when he does set out to his death it will truly mean the end of Voldemort."_

"_You have kept him alive so that he can die at the right moment?" said Snape, horrified. "You have used me."_

"_Meaning?"_

"_I have spied for you, and lied for you, put myself in mortal danger for you. Everything was supposed to keep Lily Potter's son safe. Now you tell me you have been raising him like a pig for slaughter—"_

* * *

**III.**

Severus sat in the headmaster's office, except this time behind the desk as the headmaster himself. The students were rebelling just as he had expected them to and the Carrow twins were more than ready to hand out special punishments to set out examples.

Neither Potter nor his two accomplices had returned to Hogwarts, not that he had expected them to. They were wanted criminals now, for breaking into the ministry. When he had found out about it he hadn't known what to think. Such a stunt, especially when they were wanted for questioning, was beyond stupid, bordering suicidal. He only hoped the boy truly knew what he was doing.

Now, however, remained the question as to how he would deliver the sword to the boy and how he would tell him of his fate. Not even Dumbledore had any idea of his whereabouts, which infuriated as well as relieved him somewhat.

But as of his fate … should he tell him at all? If he were to die because of it in the end, where did that leave him? Wasn't the sole purpose of his life keeping the boy alive? If it had to end with his death, Severus should have been kind to himself seventeen years ago and killed himself. And even if he _were _to tell him, how would he know if it was the right moment at all?

He was filled with uncertainty. It was Dumbledore's fault for not telling him everything he should have known, and if he knew the man at all, his instructions to the boy would've been vague as well. He wondered for a moment why he worked for him at all. _For_ _Lily. _But if it was all for Lily, was he supposed to be sending her son to his death? He didn't know.

* * *

**A/N: I hope I managed to capture his emotions well but I think it's a rather sloppy job. This is definitely going to be revised after comp. **


End file.
